Maybe I will heal myself.

Perhaps it could be me, or else,

Maybe it will be the paper and the pen

That could finally fill me with zen.

How funny it is that they all tell me

To write with a zeal.

Write down your feelings

It will help you heal.

How can I write feelings,

That I’ve forgotten how how feel.

No longer can I deny,

It’s becoming harder to reply;

“I’m o.k.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Just a little tired.”

When you ask me if I’m alright

I’m drowning trying to see the light.

This war raging on the inside is destroying me

How can you not see?

This person that you think you know

Started dying a long time ago.